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The cufflinks made it even more certain that it was a member of my team. I didn’t drop it somewhere, and neither did I lose it. Someone took it from me.
Something was going on here, something I couldn’t see clearly, but I knew where to start looking.
Doper. Ferro. Ansel.
Someone in that trio had betrayed me. Perhaps all of them.
I needed to know for sure, but of course, I couldn’t do any digging yet while I was stuck in this fucking metal prison.
“Still not talking?” The bozo in front of me had been yapping the entire time we’d been in this damn metal room. And he continued while cutting his tangerine, dropping peels everywhere like a damn pig. “You know I can lighten your sentence if you cooperate with me. But if you don’t, I can’t do anything for you.”
I gave him a get-real look. “You think I don’t know how this works?”
“How what works?” He gave me an oblivious look like he really thought he could fool anybody.
He thought I was an amateur at this. He’d kept up with the inane chatter the entire time we’d been here, waiting for me to crack or let slip some information. He was threatening to annoy me to death, but luckily for me, I was very good at tuning out useless noise.
I shook my head. “I’m not saying shit until my lawyer gets here.”
“Suit yourself.” He placed the tangerines on his paper plate, reached into his lunch bag, and pulled out a foil-wrapped pungent sandwich that probably had enough garlic to salt the Atlantic Ocean. “You hungry?”
I tuned him out once more, focusing on the thought I had been trailing.
No matter which way I looked at it, it seemed someone had betrayed me. Only a few people knew about my feud with the man who was now dead. I didn’t think it was Ansel because it was too sloppy. It would have to be either Ferro or Doper. Doper was at the top of my suspect list. I didn’t know much about him. The man was too silent, too secretive.
I didn’t know why the bastard would betray me after everything we’d fucking been through together, but I would find out.
Had the cops paid him to frame me? Or was it something simpler? Did he find out about my company and then want to get me out of the way so he could steal it?
Another thing to think about was the lawyer, Mansen. He knew everything about the company, and he had much to gain by getting me out of the way since no one else in my family knew what I owned, and no one in the company knew who I was. If he got rid of me and Emily, he could forge documents, and that was it.
And then there was my brother, but I immediately canceled him out. It wasn’t blind loyalty like Emily thought. It was simply the fact that my brother had no reason for getting me out of the picture, and even if he did, he wouldn’t do it like this. He would be the type to shoot me in the back and be done with it.
“Okay, I’m going to level with you.” The detective’s stream of conversations once more permeated my consciousness, much to my annoyance. “It’s not looking very good for you here. You’re looking at life in prison without the possibility of parole for good behavior. They’re calling you a serial murderer, and with you having gang affiliations, it doesn’t help your case. But perhaps we can get your charges drawn back if you start talking or plead guilty. However, we can’t help you if you don’t help yourself. At this rate, you’ll be picking more trash than you turn.” He said the last part with a smirk that told me everything I needed to know.
“That would all be well and good,” I said. “If I was found guilty.”
“Your DNA was found at the crime scene.”
“Does not mean I killed the man. Was there anyone else’s DNA found there? A cleaner? Perhaps a friend?”
He didn’t answer, but I knew from his facial expression that I was right. How dumb did these fucking people think I was?
“Are any of them down here at the police station testifying?” I asked. “Or did you just single me out because of my, eh, shall we say, colorful past?”
“We—”
“You have nothing on me,” I said, leaning forward. “Absolutely nothing. I have an alibi for his time of death and about a dozen people who can speak up for me. You. Have. Nothing.” Then, I looked up and saw my criminal attorney lawyer, Sam, enter the room. Five minutes late as usual.
He looked displeased as he gestured to the detective. “Uncuff him. Now. We’ve already posted bail.”
The detective glanced down at my hands and reluctantly began unlocking the handcuffs.
“Anyway, the sooner you find the guy…” I added, glancing back at the detective, “…the sooner everything can go back to normal. Because contrary to popular belief, I don’t kill people. And I especially don’t kill people and then fucking leave DNA behind. That’s just stupid.”
As I walked away, I could tell the detective didn’t believe me. But it didn’t matter. Because I was going to find this fucker myself, and by the time I was done with him, he was going to wish he’d turned himself in to the police.
“There’s a search warrant,” Sam said. “So they’re currently raiding your house.”
